Second Hand Love
by ParamoreXO
Summary: After the Ultimate Alien series, Gwen and Kevin run into each other and think about trying again.
1. Chapter 1

**Second Hand Love**

**Summary: **After the UA series, Gwen and Kevin run into each other and think about trying again.

**Character Dynamics: **Kevin, Gwen ( Gwevin )

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><p>The first mistake Gwen makes is her refusal to fill the car up. With Bellwood being 187.43 miles from her university, she had assumed that she could make the trip with a tank that was slightly less than half full on gas. If the sputtering engine and warning lights were any indication, she had apparently assumed too much.<p>

Damn traffic.

Mortification bubbles her blood, surging to her cheeks at the present situation. She's parked on the cold shoulder of a bustling interstate, blackened snow nearly cementing the tires of her vehicle to the glazed pavement. Although the excess heat from the radiator vents through to the interior, she knows her parents have already used their extra can of gas at home to fill up Ken's sleek Christmas present, and doesn't expect that her pea coat will keep her warm for too long. Sighing in dismay, she stares down at the phone nestled in her lap, long mane dripping over her shoulder like blood. Her alphabetized contact page is open to the "K" section, a particular name that she hasn't said in over a year lit up across the touch screen. She's hesitant to tap on his name, but when sirens sound up ahead, indicating yet another car wreck, she forfeits every voice of doubt and puts the call through.

The sixth ring is cut off with a distracted '_Yeah?_' accompanied by a cluster of muffled background voices. For a moment, she's offended at this blatant and agitated greeting, but then realizes that he probably didn't check his caller ID when he put the cell phone to his ear. She had planned out what she wanted to say, words that were simple and requests that weren't too pathetic. The sound of his voice, however; a velvety rumble that's slightly deeper than when he refused to tell her goodbye, is a rapture in her mind, provoking memories she had long since suppressed. Suddenly, she can't verbalize anything. All the words are stuck in her throat.

"Hey, whoever the hell this is, you better not call again if you think I—"

"Kevin." It's pathetic and lame, but the static warped sound of his name from her lips is enough to shut him up. "It's me."

"Wait, Gwen?" His end of the line suddenly goes fuzzy, as if he's switching the receiver from one ear to the other. The background noise peters out and the sound of his voice is raw, "Gwen… Is that you?"

"Yeah," she admits, nervously unlatching the seatbelt from its harness, smoothly sliding it over her chest into an idle position. The leather of her seat moans in protest as she anxiously crosses and uncrosses her legs. "It's me."

"Wow, um… hey. Hey, what have you been up to?"

While the same familiarity still exists between them, she can't help but feel awkward speaking to him like this. Throughout the past months, they've mutually kept in touch through her cousin and Julie and a few intergalactic plumber situations. No late night phone calls, missions, dates, or out of the blue visits have occurred in nearly a year. She hadn't expected some great reunion, so she's not sure why she's feeling slightly unnerved by all this.

It's been a while, she supposes.

"Oh, you know, I've never been nearly as good a driver as you."

"What? Wait, did you get into an accident? Are you alright?" The concerned tone of his abrupt conclusion that bleeds into her ear actually sounds genuine.

"I'm fine," she answers with a slight smile. "Just stranded with an empty tank. I thought that maybe, since your garage business is still running, you could give me a lift?"

There's a pause, but the familiar jingle of his keyset shatters the hesitant air. "You're back in Bellwood?"

"Yeah," she says, this confirmation knotting up emotions in her chest. "I'm staying at home for Christmas."

"Good," he mutters. She hears the engine of his car snarl, ferocious and wild as she remembers. "So, where are you pulled over at?"

"On the interstate," she informs, giving him the details as to which exit she last passed. "There's an accident up ahead, if that's helpful?"

He nearly snickers at that. "If I'm lucky, I'll only run into three on the way to get you."

_This is ridiculous_, she scolds herself. For the past few minutes, she's made an effort to tame her wildly thrashing heart. She can feel the blood froth in her veins, daring her to identify the sensation as giddiness. _It's just Kevin. _He's familiar and comfortable despite the void in their relationship. Talking to him shouldn't be this nerve wracking. Clutching the phone even tighter, she lets her eyes flutter shut as her lips bloom into a grateful smile, "Thanks for doing this for me, Kev."

She's adding this slip of the tongue to her list of ongoing mistakes of the day when his end of the line only emits silence. He stops her halfway, however, when his delayed nonchalance eases them into a conversation that almost feels natural. They talk about the year between, her first year on scholarship and his part-time, yet booming business at the garage. She's well aware that he still pockets his plumber's badge because of the last time she checked in on her communicator. His little blip in Bellwood had seemed light years away from Ben's, who was doing damage control in some star system that had recently been involved in a rare elements smuggling ring. Kevin, she noticed, usually strayed away from missions of that nature.

Informing her that he was probably ten minutes away from meeting up with her, he hung up, dismissing the year-old photo of him from her screen. Checking her call log, the sight of the duration of their conversation strikes a match against her jumbled emotions. Her entire body flushes and she's instantly reminded of the summer nights she used to keep him up with hours of small talk on the phone.

And for a moment, the tension unwinds in her chest.

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><p><strong>AN: Like it? Love it? Hate it? Flame it? Let me know in a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**She's distractedly chasing cars with her eyes when he guzzles her tank with gasoline.** As the streaks of color race by and blend with flashes of headlights, however, she's unsuccessful in the attempt to clear her mind. Hugging herself even tighter in an effort to fight off the dry, nipping winds, her emerald gaze shamelessly rakes over Kevin's bent over form, drinking in his appearance. He hasn't changed much, at least in the outward contours. When he stepped out of his hot rod; which still donned the black racing stripe against the sleek, green skin, he embodied the same roguish charm that she had always found hopelessly endearing, even if frustrating at times. His hair was shaggier than she remembered, bangs gracing the tips of eyelashes that framed the glimmering onyx pigment of his eyes. His gaze had been unabashed when he walked up to greet her, swiftly roaming over her generous form, twinkling in his ever present tinge of mirth. She didn't recognize the leather jacket he wore, which looked beat up enough to have survived the past decade, but didn't miss the way the fabric accentuated the impressive figuration of his arms.

The past year had been very kind to him.

"There," he suddenly explains, patting the red skinned flap of the fuel tank closed, "that should be more than enough to get you safely home."

Sighing with gratitude heavy on her breath, she crunches the snow beneath her slouchy, knitted boots ( now soaked to the chilled nerves of her toes ) to approach him. Easily setting his spare canister of gas on the roof of her small car, the side of his body rests against the passenger door. "Thank you," she breathes, strangely exhilarated and truly grateful for his help. "I appreciate you going out of your way to do this for me."

"Yeah, well, seeing you around the holidays must be a gift. It's been a while since I've seen you."

Blood rushes to her cheeks, giving her burning visage a sanguinetinge, in retaliation to his blunt comment. _More like thirteen months. _A shiver with so much power that she begins to believe it'll crack every ossein leading down to her tailbone, explodes down her back. The chills pricked from her flesh, despite her miserable attempts to convince herself otherwise, aren't merely a reaction to the frigid weather. "Merry Christmas," she voices impassively, her tone lacking any trace of the festive holiday cheer.

"How're your classes?" He cocks his head to the side, letting his bangs drag over his face in feathery kisses. The slight movement stirs something inside her chest, a brew of warm emotions that stretch and strain her confusion like taffy. "Too slow for a genius like you?"

"No," she scoffs, kicking lightly at patch of ice. Her toes are numb, but she can feel the dull throb as the tip of her kick connects with the slick water again. Her grin morphs into a grimace. "I'm practically drowning in work half of the time."

Snickering lightly, he snatches the can from the roof and retreats to the trunk of his car as he throws behind his shoulder, "So what do you do with the other half? Party?"

Eyes rolling in their sockets, she hesitantly follows him, coming up to his side as he locks the empty luggage up. "You know I'm not exactly a part girl, Kevin."

Glancing at her defiant stance, with her arms tautly crossed over her chest and lifted chin, he quirks an eyebrow to portray his skeptical prospects. "Hey, the college life can change people. I've seen it happen."

"I know. I'm just saying that—"

"Hey," he chuckles, standing upright from his slouched position against the rear of his car, now towering over her. "I'm just teasing. Jeez."

That lopsided smirk. Their usual banter. Him trying to get a rise out of her. Everything suddenly overwhelms her. The dark pigment of his eyes are smoldering, projecting a sizzling gaze that burns right through her heart. The words at the back of her throat struggle to be scraped up by her lips, Dropping her head and his acknowledgement, she shoots her drenched shoes a sour look as she realizes that she's missed this about the two of them.

"Oh, wow." His tone is low and surprised, as if discovering something for the first time. "Your feet must be freezing."

Shrugging, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, "Yeah."

When she's coasting down the street leading to her home address nearly three hours later, nostalgia nearly distracts her from the sudden swerve distancing the car and the snowballing kids fighting in the snowy length of the street. Beside her, Kevin maneuvers the gear shift into park, and his car briefly rocks backwards on the incline of her driveway. Apparently, a parched fuel tank hadn't been the only problem her vehicle had succumbed to. After multiple attempts to twist the ignition on and swift inspections made by the present mechanic, Kevin had explained what was wrong with the failing schematics, and even though she blundered trying to follow his tech talk, it was evident that she wouldn't be driving herself home. Which was fine, really. She honestly doubted that she would have been able to feel for the accelerator and brake with her current state of footwear.

"Between Bellwood and where you're at now…" He begins softly, "It's a long way."

Fiddling with the air vents and allowing the steamy air to scald her fingertips, she's desperate to avoid looking at him. "I'll be back for spring break. And for the summer."

On the way to and from his auto shop, they had talked about his recent missions, her spectrum of professors, clubs, films, classes, Julie and Ben, and of everything and anything else. She was wary of their unspoken agreement to avoid the topic of New Year's, of the jarring way her parents transformed into convivial teens on the Eve, and of that traditional midnight kiss. It might have been a tradition they had previously practiced; before she left him behind and before that sweltering summer day when he never showed up to see her off, but how could they ever achieve that again with the way they're interacting right now? A void suddenly forms in her chest, empty and dull but _hungry_. Suddenly, she realizes that they haven't spared one another a single touch, not even a simple brush of the hands or hug or handshake. Now, that's all she wants. Skin upon skin, pressed up tight and hot.

Bitter, dry winds charge at her when he opens the side door for her, idly gripping the handle as she climbs out. As they're trudging up the pathway to her porch, the sloshing in her shoes makes her feel miserable. The soles practically slap on the snow dusted lane, awkward and staggering next to his casual pace. It's slow and savory, the pace of their stride, so she can't help but think that he's either doing this on purpose or taking another dig at her duck-like promenade.

"Your car should be as good as new in two days."

Two days. Christmas Eve. Her mind starts to spiral. "You can call me. If you do a good job, I might bring you cookies or something. My mom goes overboard on gingersnaps every year."

"Hmm. I fix up your _hopelessly_ beyond repair ride into something that'll seem brand new and all I get is a plate of cookies?" The lopsided grin tinges his lips again, but she doesn't look away this time. "The compromise doesn't seem too fair."

A desire she can only label as a craving for something _more _delivers a visceral thrill through her entire body. If he's suspicious, she can always chalk the sudden fit of shivers up to the cold.

"If you're implying that you'd rather have something else, then you can—"

"Nah," he shakes his head, "Bring the food. Your mom's a real mean baker."

And before she can say anything to oppose it, he abruptly turns and retreats to his car. The snarl of the engine rips through the air, vicious and intimidating as he tears down the pavements and escapes her lingering stare.

A frustrated smile taints her chilled visage, the stretched and pallid flesh blotched with snowflakes. There's still so much more she wants to say; and not simply with words, but very daring acts. She knows she'll have her chance, however, when she arrives with a warm plate of festive cookies. Or, at least, she hopes so.

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><p><strong>AN: A very appreciative "Thank you!" to everyone who has reviewed or has added this to your faves/watch. I plan on adding one more chapter soon! (: Thanks again! So you read it. Like it? Love it? Flame it? Hate it? Let me know in a review!**


	3. Chapter 3

When he snatches a promised gingersnap from the festive platter adorned with ridiculous reindeer sporting painted red noses, Kevin's surprised to find that the treat is warm to the touch. A few sugary crumbs tumble into his palm as he moves to sink his teeth into the sweet dough peppered with ginger. He nearly hums in ecstasy upon discovering that the center is still hot and runny, a contrast to the hardened shell. After swallowing the rest of the cookie, he licks the corner of his grin to salvage any last bits of baked bliss. "Damn, I forgot your mom really _can_ bake."

"I'm surprised," Gwen admits while making her way towards his workbench. The pendulous movement of her winter skirt, layered over a dark pair of leggings, draws his attention as the fabric stretches with each shift of her shapely curvature. A smolder igniting his gaze, he can't help but think that their year apart had certainly been kind to her. The redheaded Anodite had always been a strong fighter, but he's starting to realize ( and appreciate ) the places where she seems to have firmed up. "Most people never forget about her Oreo balls, or her homemade Heath bars, or those pumpkin butterscotch—"

"Alright, alright! Jeez!" Bleeding off some of his earlier musings, he places a modest hand over his heart with an unabashed laugh, "Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I think my blood pressure spiked at 'Oreo balls.'"

Chuckling to herself, she shoves aside a few power tools to make room for the plate generously stacked with gingersnaps. When she had requested for her mother to bake an extra batch for her, Natalie had naturally been curious. After explaining that she was simply picking her car up from Kevin's workshop and that the cookies were acting as partial payment ( the rest serving in the form of cash. She wasn't about to take him for granted… ), Natalie had eagerly tripled the recipe's yield.

Surely, she reasoned, Kevin wouldn't finish off the entire plate without making himself sick. With this in mind, she shamelessly plucked one out for herself and nibbled on it with satisfaction. Just as she was about to turn and face him, Kevin's strong arms trapped her on her sides, causing her to bump a hip against his belt buckle and the other on the wooden edge of his workbench. Through a gasp of pain and mid-chew, she accidentally bit down on her tongue, a canine severing through her taste buds. Pressing her lips tightly together, she screws her eyes shut as a strangled yelp garbles in the back of her throat. Thankfully, her shocked senses had the decency to allow her to swallow before she spoke. "Kevin! What are you doing?"

His laugh rumbled in his chest, vibrating lightly against her back as his hot exhale ruffled her hair, "Taking what's mine." His voice, now a low, velvety lull, swelled the shell of her ear as he wagged a cookie in front of her face.

"What?" she huffed, shifting uncomfortably against his bulging arrangements of arm muscle, sandwiched between the tabletop and his torso. She tries to turn herself around by pushing off her awkward grip on the counter, but Kevin's reluctant to let her face him. His warm, breathy chuckles fill her ear and she can feel his mesomorphic build rippling against her, the heat of him ripping through her clothes. "Do you mean me or the cookie?"

Suddenly, the fever of his flesh is gone. She can't leech off his warmth anymore. His cyclone of scents merely linger as he withdraws from her, querulously chewing off the top half of his cookie. "Last time I checked, you weren't mine anymore."

Bracing the table ledge, her lips pucker out as her face contorts with confusion. His hardened eyes evade her gaze as he continues to gnaw on the treat, a gesture that conveys both his anger and resignation. She can't help but feel stung by that and with a sinking heart she realizes, once again, he's shutting her out. "You're right," she begins carefully, as if one wrong word would trigger a landmine in his unclear resolve, "I don't belong to anyone, actually."

Shooting her a surreptitious glance, he wipes his hands on his denim pantleg. "So you're not with..."

"No," she confirms, the single syllable tottering in the air, "I dated a bit, yeah. But none of them lasted. It always came back to y—" Eyes widening in alarm, she grips the workbench more firmly, her lips floundering for words that she can't bring herself to say.

"Came back to...?" He prodded, visibly desperate.

Her knuckles bleach bloodless as she tries to anchor herself to reality. With a forceful sigh, she drags her emerald eyes up to meet his, "Its you. Its always been you, Kevin. Just you."

He struggles to maintain a casual lilt to his stride, but the footfalls that eventually reach her are slow and weighted with this revelation, too slow for Kevin's usual impulsiveness. Cocked to the side, his head of unkempt hair barely sweeps over his eye lashes at the quirked angle. Suddenly, he's regarding her from an inch away, close enough that the force of his words touches her lips. "Would it be different this time?"

Abandoning the support of the table ledge, she carefully draws a hand up to cup his face. Stubble pricks the pads of her supple touch and a sensation as palpable as an electric shock strikes her entire being. The visceral rush is as immediate as ever, but there's a tang to his presence that leaves a more pleasing taste to her senses than ever before. Smiling at him, she can feel the blood shivering in her veins, "Yes, I think it would be. There were a lot of things that worked for us before."

"Oh yeah?" The way his arms snake around her sides dare her to retaliate.

"Yeah..." she breathes as he starts to settle against her and she's breathless because _oh god, he's firmer and stronger than she remembers. _"Yeah, _this_ always wor—"

The rest of her words tumble into his mouth as a simple, chaste kiss becomes something of hot and eagerly parted lips. The roughness of his jaw scratches her as she tries to pull him deeper into their wet and desperate seal, causing a surprised mewl to tumble forward and down the back of his throat. Seizing her bottom lip, he tugs at her blossoming smirk, sinking his teeth in with wary pressure. Her grasp on him falters as she allows him to reel her forward, pressing her palms against his torso instead, intending to push him away and catch her breath or_ slow him down _or— and suddenly his hands are easily holding her up by the backs of her thighs, nails ripping through the sheer fabric of her tights, lifting her onto the workbench. Through the familiar haze of his kisses that trail along her jaw, suck at her collarbone, and flicker against her pulse line, something felt slightly different. Maybe it was the wider feel to his shoulders. Maybe it was the surprising bulk of muscles that shifted against her. Either way, all rationale in thought slips away from her and, caught up in their fit of passion, she doesn't care to pinpoint exactly how he's changed. All she knows is that she likes it and, with a gasp that's instantly muffled by his harsh breathing, realizes that she misses him_._

Finally, slowly, they begin to break away with lingering touches, flushed flesh, and half lidded eyes. "Wow." Gwen manages through a foolish, lopsided smirk.

"Mmm," he hums in agreement, refusing to release his hold on the swell of her hips. He's gently drawing patterns on her skirt, fingers deliberately peeping under her shirt with each aimless design, as pleasure causes his eyes to droop closed. "You busy on New Year's?"

"Ben's parents are throwing a party." Bringing her hands over her head, she latches her fingers around the back of his neck, the finer fringe of his hair kissing her knuckles. "Listen, we can start out slow. Go to the party, spend a little time together before I leave to finish second semester, then go from there."

Plunging forward, he nuzzles his face into her neck, mouth buzzing against her flesh, "Mmm."

"Kevin!" She swats at his back, trying and failing to sound stern through her laughter. "I'm serious!"

He gives a slight chuckle, amused enough to bare his teeth against her wet skin, and pulls away. Connecting her gaze with his, a tint of mirth brightens the onyx pigment of his eyes. "Y'know, whoever you kiss on New Years at midnight is supposed to be the person you end up making out with for the rest of the year."

"I know," she assures, "That's why you're coming with me."

"Good." Pressing his mouth against hers, he swipes his tongue over her lips as if trying to soak in the flavor of her, deciding that in this moment, the taste of her lips is more of a gift than a plate of gingersnaps would ever be.


End file.
